


The Secret Spy Adventures of Jay, Will, and Tyler (After Everything Went Pear-Shaped)

by jonesandashes



Category: Traveler
Genre: Adventure, Gen, Spies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-07
Updated: 2007-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonesandashes/pseuds/jonesandashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being kidnapped is a lot like being framed for terrorism. Both situations are totally Will’s fault. Both situations involve running for their lives. Jay has yet to find an ideal way out of either, but he’s pretty sure he’s getting closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret Spy Adventures of Jay, Will, and Tyler (After Everything Went Pear-Shaped)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the fantastic pollyrepeat for the beta!

He tells them his name is really John, but they continue to call him Will because it’s easier, it’s already habit, and all three of them know he’s lying through his teeth about it anyway.

They spend a lot of the next two days wondering where to go from here. It’s almost nice - they haven’t had time to take a breath since the Drexler. Tyler sleeps almost as much as Will does and Jay writes cryptic emails to Kim while making real, sit-down dinners in the motel’s microwave oven. It breaks after the first night, but after supper Will goes at it with a screwdriver and a dangerous look in his eyes.

It doesn’t give Jay any problems after that.

* * *

There are definitely differences between the Will they knew and the Will they are – thanks to the handiwork of several destructive and incriminating explosions - being forced to get to know now. Some things are subtle, and some are really, really not. For example, it turns out Will was a terrorist. Who knew?

Will is also a lot angrier than Jay remembers him pretending to be, and a lot more resigned all at the same time. After he mentions it to Tyler, they exchange agreeing looks every time Will yells about Tyler being an idiot, the dog next door that won’t shut up, or accidentally burning his toast. Jay suspects Will’s really just upset about Maya, something Jay doesn’t talk about with Tyler because both of them want very badly _not_ to talk about it with anybody.

It takes another two days of living in the motel for them to figure out that actually, Will being shot and then sleeping 20 hours a day while running a temperature probably means he needs medical attention. Tyler immediately dislikes the idea.

He’s still their friend, Jay reasons. Well, sort of. In the most messed-up, frame-you-for-bombings way possible.

Tyler reasons that Will also needs a good kick in the teeth, and if they’re sticking their necks out to haul him to a hospital _anyway..._

Will doesn’t reason anything. Jay didn’t really expect him to.

* * *

Except, a few hours before they’re going to depart for the hospital, Will decides that going to a public place is the stupidest idea ever, and they’re not taking him _anywhere_ , and please don’t make him go. He throws a tantrum before they leave that might have been endearing if Jay hadn’t returned from getting the car to find Tyler in the terrorist-ninja version of a headlock. Then it’s just sort of unnerving.

But there are two of them and one of him, and all (admittedly admirable) ninja skills aside, the bottom line is Will’s still shot. Point for the home team.

By the time they wrestle him into the back seat, Will’s bad mood has done the inevitable and spread to Tyler, who glares sullenly out the window the entire trip there.

Will didn’t have to worry; they don’t get to the hospital anyway.

* * *

Jay remembers when he realized that Tyler Fog - _Tyler Fog_ \- was one of his best friends. It wasn’t, like, _alarming_ or anything, just startling. He’d explained this to Will, who’d laughed at him.

Yeah, Will said, it’s kind of crazy, isn’t it?

I mean, Jay continued, if someone had told me this would happen a few years ago, I wouldn’t have believed them.

I know what you mean, Will told him, shaking his head. I know what you mean.

Of course, the whole thing had turned out to be masterminded and they couldn’t have ended up being anything other than best friends, Will’s since told him as much, but Jay’s really glad he’s out here with Tyler anyway.

* * *

The pickup truck sidelines them when they’re six blocks from Gifford City Hospital.

"You’ve got to find other ways of getting our attention," moans Tyler.

The guy from the hotel looks at them, not amused. The guy from the hotel, Jay knows, is not necessarily on their side. He may not know what their side is, exactly, but he does know the only people who aren’t going to suddenly change their minds about being on it are himself and Tyler. And Kim.

Don’t count on Kim, Will sometimes tells him. But Will lies all the time, Will doesn’t count.

They pile into a dark blue truck, hotel guy driving, nobody riding shotgun.

* * *

Things get a little fuzzy after that. Jay wakes up in an off-white room, somebody’s shouting, maybe Tyler? Sounds like it could be Tyler. He hears Will’s voice too.

“Mmph,” says Jay.

...Hang on, were they sidelined by a truck?

“Yes,” says someone, and Jay realizes he’d spoken out loud. “Twice.”

“Second was less fun than the first.”

“Hotel guy?”

A warbly figure that’s probably Tyler leans into Jay’s field of vision. It shakes a warbly head.

“I’ll be back,” Will is telling them, and that’s enough to make Jay sit up.

And then list to the left. Good thing there’s a wall right there.

“Where are you- where’s he going? What’s going on?”

“I’ll be back,” Will repeats. Suddenly he’s gone, and the door is shut firmly behind him.

They stare at the door. It takes longer than Jay would like to admit - head injury notwithstanding - for him to realize what just happened and exactly how much he hates Will Traveler right now.

“I can’t believe he just did that,” Jay says slowly, mostly to himself. “I can’t believe we just _watched him do that_.”

Tyler curses angrily, kicking a wall in frustration. Predictably, it doesn’t do anything to calm him down. Neither does trying to rattle the doorknob loose.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Tyler demands.

Jay runs a hand through his hair, surveying the room. It’s perfectly square, with yellowed walls and a cracked linoleum floor. The only window, high on the wall to the left of the locked door, is way too small to be an option. It’s raining outside, Jay can hear the drops. The lonely light bulb above their heads flickers, but remains on.

They wait. Tyler sits on the floor, leaning against one peeling wall while Jay sits against another. Jay’s head is clearing up, which is promising. Tyler tells him everything he knows about their current situation, which is basically ‘we’ve been kidnapped.’ There are plans to rush anyone who comes in.

“And then?” Jay wonders.

“Run like hell,” Tyler shrugs. They’ve come a long way, they’re not giving up here.

The doorknob moves slightly an indeterminable amount of time later (their watches are gone), then twists slowly to the left. Tyler and Jay silently scramble to their feet, readying themselves.

The man that strides through is gripping an automatic rifle in one hand and the back of Will’s jacket in the other. Will’s pushed forward and the rifle is promptly trained on Tyler.

They are strongly advised not to do anything stupid.

The man, a burly fellow in his 40’s, maybe, motions for them to sit against the back wall. They do. Jay glances at Tyler; his eyes are wide, but his jaw is set. He’s ready if they get an opportunity.

The man is offering them what sounds a lot like an ultimatum when Will produces a handgun from nowhere and shoots him in the face. Tyler recoils as the man drops to the ground.

“I’m back,” Will tells them. “Let’s go.”

Being kidnapped is a lot like being framed for terrorism. Both situations are totally Will’s fault. Both situations involve running for their lives. Jay has yet to find an ideal way out of either, even if he’s pretty sure he’s getting closer.

* * *

There was this one time back at grad school. Before Kim (and that’s practically its own era), before anyone had really gotten settled, before he had realized that he was friends with rich-kid Tyler, he had gone for a run.

Jay went on lots of runs, one every morning if he could, and on this particular morning he’d come downstairs to find Will tying his running shoes.

Thought I’d tag along, Will told him. I’ve been meaning to get back into running.

Will beat home, like he would every time after that.

He’d churn out some shit about ‘wanting it badly enough,’ and Jay wonders now if there was double-meaning in that, too, like the double-meaning in Will’s favorite kind of cake and the system they worked out for deciding whose turn it was for 3 A.M. pizza runs.

Jay knows he’s looking too much into it, like he’s looking too much into everything.

* * *

Will leads them through a myriad of hallways, each one as unremarkable as the last. There aren’t any windows, the walls and floors dimly lit by bare, yellow light bulbs hanging from the ceiling every few feet. Tyler’s getting impatient.

"I know where I’m going," Will tells them, and then doubles back down the stairs they just climbed. Jay recognizes the rust pattern on the wall, the one that if he squints sort of looks like a dog. Or a bunny, something with ears.

"Don’t you think we should be heading up?" Jay wonders.

"You know," Tyler immediately seconds, "to the _surface_?"

"Maybe we’re in a tower," Will says.

"We’re not in a tower."

"How do _you_ know we’re not in a tower?"

They stop briefly at the bottom of the stairs, where the corridor branches off into two parts. Will peers carefully down the length of both of them, looking for something familiar, maybe weighing his options. His face shifts into something resembling recognition and he starts down the hall on the left, but damn, Jay recognizes that look. It’s the same one Will got when he was writing a last-minute essay on reaction equilibrium or cell potential, the one that meant he’d run out of things to say and was going to make it up as he went along until he got to something easy, like In Conclusion, or The End.

* * *

The first thing Jay decided (consciously, after a series of muttered ‘no, no, no’s and following Will and Tyler into the dark alleys of New York, evidence of their innocence burning bright behind them, optimism sinking as low as the smoke was billowing high) in this new and exciting chapter of On The Run was that Will having joined them had probably doubled their survival chances. He’d mentioned this to Tyler, who had grudgingly agreed. They didn’t get a chance to talk about it at length, however; Will had returned a few minutes later with directions to an unspectacular motel in the middle of nowhere and the keys to an equally unspectacular Ford junker.

* * *

It’s Jay who finds a door that leads somewhere that isn’t more grunge hallways, Tyler leaning over his shoulder with a hand blocking his eyes from direct sunlight.

"Hey," he says, and claps Jay on the back. "Finally!"

Will adds: "Good work."

Jay fights down any feelings of hope, but allows himself to revel a little in the sort of accomplishment that isn’t necessarily a direct route to clearing his name and going home, but still helps in things like staying alive. Which is a fairly important step in the overall (vaguely planned out) plan.

They’re looking out into an old cargo yard, boxcars and pieces of yellowed and rusted machinery scattered haphazardly before them. Tyler takes a deep breath as Will steps out into the sunlight, carefully looking around himself. Seemingly satisfied, he motions them forward with a jerk of his head. It’s absolutely silent, Jay notes, except for the soft sound of their shoes on damp ground. Natural light feels alien on his face – still too bright – and Jay wonders how long they were in the complex. At least a day, he thinks, the empty feeling in his stomach a fairly reliable indication.

They don’t go three feet before Will whispers,

"Three to the right, brown boxcar. Two behind us. Keep walking."

* * *

The second thing Jay decided was that regardless of whether things work out between himself and the good citizens of the U.S. of A., he will eventually have pretty commendable survivalist-fu of his own. When people start shooting at them, the appropriate reactions have almost become second-nature: grab Tyler, dive behind the nearest thing that might be bullet-proof, and stay the hell out of Will’s line of fire.

* * *

They find a bland, dusty town about 6 miles South-East of the cargo yard and after attaining some drinkable water, Jay and Will slouch in ripped diner seats while Tyler casually asks a tired-looking waitress where on earth they are. She leans against the counter, looking suspicious, and pushes a few strands of wispy brown hair behind her ear.

The middle of nowhere, she replies, but changes her answer to Kendell, Maine when he explains that he’s on a road trip gone horribly wrong.

It doesn’t take long to clear out after that – Will grabs a car, Jay grabs some food, and Tyler talks his way into borrowing a map that nobody intends on returning. Tyler drives (Tyler always drives), and Jay pretends not to notice the way Will’s forehead is pressed against the window, like he’s listening to a conversation that never happened instead of the radio.

* * *

They release Will into Chicago at a quarter past twelve, with promises to return in twenty minutes and without silent apologies to anybody; the universe sort of owes them one. Will disappears into the crowd, ambling along in such a way that he doesn’t look as though he’s ready to keel over, which Jay thinks he must be.

Once he’s been out of sight for a few moments, Jay turns to Tyler.

"I like yellow," Tyler says thoughtfully. "Always wanted to have a yellow jeep." Jay narrows his eyes.

"Flashy," he says. "Nice, but not exactly what we’re going for here."

They laugh, a little.

What they’re going for is inconspicuous, and they find it in the form of a light brown Chevy car. It’s rusted in all the right places, and so unbelievably forgettable Tyler wonders whether its owners will miss it and Jay silently congratulates himself on the find. It doesn’t take long to hot-wire, either; Jay no longer has to wonder how Tyler spent his time when Jay and Will had to leave him in the library three and a half hours longer than expected two days and a few states ago.

Jay snags a city map from a small tourist stand. A cute young woman in pigtails smiles at him with all her teeth and wishes him a nice day. He smiles back, and it’s not even forced. He surprises himself, finding that he’d maybe like to come back here once this is all over.

Tyler marks down possible exits in blue pen, and circles the two places they need to hit before leaving. They wait on the front steps of a private high school (Nobody watches the news at these things, Tyler assures him) until Will shows up, exactly four minutes earlier than their pre-arranged check-in time and $600 heavier.

Jay almost commends good work, but he doubts Will would care either way.

"I’m hungry," Will says. Tyler nods emphatically.

They have hot dogs, which they eat in the car while Jay follows Will’s muffled directions to the darkest, dodgiest part of the city.

"Turn here," Will advises between bites of onion, "and take off your hat."

Jay does as he’s told. The Cubs had been discarded a long time ago, and he removes the Phoenix Suns without guilt. Tyler stuffs it under his jacket without comment.

By the time the streetlights have turned on, they’re parked neatly under a bridge, murky water lapping at their back tires. Will hands Jay a .42, and crawls into the backseat.

Tyler shifts so his arm catches some yellow light through the back window.

"I’ll take it at two," Will tells Jay, even though he doesn’t start to stir until at least 3:30.

* * *

The power went out once when Jay was hanging out with Kim, not long before she’d landed the photography job. She’d known exactly where the candles were, and exactly where her lighter was, and said she hoped she wouldn’t have to throw out her milk in the morning.

Jay thought of where his own emergency supplies were kept – bottom left cupboard in the basement, behind a box filled with old textbooks – and spent the rest of the night working out the right way to ask her out (for the rest of their lives, forever) without being unreasonably creepy about it. In hindsight, he thinks he managed it okay.

* * *

"Sorry," Will grumbles. Jay shrugs and lets his eyes slide closed. Tyler’s still snoring softly in the back, barely audible against the far-off sounds of sirens, traffic, people. Questions nudge the back of Jay’s mind (When did you start working for these people? What do they _want?_ ) but instead he asks,

"Where do we head next?"

Will blinks at him, and says something about contacts in Texas and a couple of leads he’d like to check out.

Jay nods, sliding down a few inches in his chair, shifting into a more comfortable position. It’s hard to do; the steering wheel is constantly in the way and the car isn’t long enough across to stretch out properly.

When they pull out the next morning, he has crinks in his neck. The Beatles sing about submarines, sounding fuzzy through the speakers. Jay hums along, thinks about maybe getting licorice next time they stop.


End file.
